He offered me at once an engagement. Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. And for me there is only one treasure-house. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things.
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